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- Author: Alida Scheiderer
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2008
- Pages: 106
- ISBN-10: 1440413622
- ISBN-13: 9781440413629
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English
- SAVE -10% with code: EXTRA
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Description
The Carriage House is a sweet coming of age story about a thirteen-year-old girl growing up in the Victorian era. This novella is a perfect Christmas or birthday gift for girls ages 9-12. Teens and adults will love it too as it takes you back into the romantic Victorian era as Addison writes about The Carriage House in the Spring of 1853. Book Excerpt: "Spring is when the ice thaws from the manes of our dapple-greys, the rain patters against the slate rooftops in a rhythmic beat, the cherry blossoms parade across the orchards, and the fluffy peeps hatch from their eggshells. Spring is the orchestra of life! But in 1853, it seemed as though the orchestra never ceased. It just kept playing. I didn't know why, but perhaps, it was because this was the year that I turned thirteen. Or, perhaps, the melody of spring continued because I read Mama and Papa's old love letters. I silently read them under flickering candles."
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- Author: Alida Scheiderer
- Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
- Year: 2008
- Pages: 106
- ISBN-10: 1440413622
- ISBN-13: 9781440413629
- Format: 15.2 x 22.9 x 0.6 cm, minkšti viršeliai
- Language: English English
The Carriage House is a sweet coming of age story about a thirteen-year-old girl growing up in the Victorian era. This novella is a perfect Christmas or birthday gift for girls ages 9-12. Teens and adults will love it too as it takes you back into the romantic Victorian era as Addison writes about The Carriage House in the Spring of 1853. Book Excerpt: "Spring is when the ice thaws from the manes of our dapple-greys, the rain patters against the slate rooftops in a rhythmic beat, the cherry blossoms parade across the orchards, and the fluffy peeps hatch from their eggshells. Spring is the orchestra of life! But in 1853, it seemed as though the orchestra never ceased. It just kept playing. I didn't know why, but perhaps, it was because this was the year that I turned thirteen. Or, perhaps, the melody of spring continued because I read Mama and Papa's old love letters. I silently read them under flickering candles."
Reviews